


Riot

by MitzvahRose



Series: School/University Prompts [3]
Category: To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Genre: Gen, POV Tom Robinson, Racist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 16:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7808662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MitzvahRose/pseuds/MitzvahRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poor Tom has no idea what's going on, but at least now he knows he can rest easy tonight, thanks to Atticus. Based on the riot scene from the book, only with my own little twist featuring Tom Robinson himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riot

_Silence, I knew, was the smartest thing for me. 'Spite common belief, us negros ain't stupid - we got some sense. An' I intend t'use it tonight._

_Thing is, I know just what's goin' on. I'm in trouble. Nah, **danger**. I just hope Mr. Finch knows how t'help._

* * *

Still blinkin' the brights outta my eyes an' eyin' the light he brought, I stared down at Mr. Finch from my spot. Dang, I'm mighty happy he brought it 'cause now it's not so dark... I dunno what I'd do without him!

Mr. Finch had told me t'stay quiet 'cause more white folks woul' come along. Still, swattin' at the nightbugs dashin' 'round me, I have t'hope he's wrong - for once. Mr. Finch ain't never wrong.

It sure didn' feel like long when I heard the rumblin' a'cars approachin'. Despite myself, I tensed up, my one good hand clutchin' at the bars blockin' me from the outside world. Seein' Mr. Finch all relaxed like, I forced myself to do the same, loosinin' my grip on the metal bar and scootin' back like I was.

Wish I was half as brave as him, Mr. Finch.

 _'Sounds like 4 j'lopies,'_ I thought to myself, leanin' backwards. Dun wanna be seen. ' _Must be 'lotta 'em...'_

"He in there, Mr. Finch?" A new voice, a man, called.

Swallowin' nervously to m'self at the lie 'bout to follow, I heard Mr. Finch respond. "He is and he's asleep. Don't wake him up."

After that I had a real hard time hearin' 'em, which would'a been fine by me if I just knew what was goin' on! All those murmurs sure sounded dark... darker than my cell. Made a shiver go through me, it did.

Then somethin' surprised me. A kid's voice - a little girl's. _Atticus'_ little girl!

"H-ey, Atticus!"

I froze. The smell a' stale whisky and pigpen hit me hard, an' I knew that there woul' be trouble when Mr. Finch next spoke, sayin' in that shaky voice that made me nervous t'no end, "Go home Jem. Take Scout and Dill home." I knew there was trouble afoot; it was in the air. And, darn all that's high an' mighty, I can't do a single thing 'bout it!

"Go home, I said." Mr. Finch 'peated himself and my worry grew.

' _The kids ain't listenin'?'_ I thought to myself, all confused an' worried in my lil' corner, wishin' I could see what was goin' on, but if I could, I would'na be sleepin' now would'a?

"Son, I said go home." That was Mr. Finch agin, only his voice was harsher than 'fore. Were he an' the kids 'lright?

In the ba'gron, I heard another, husky soundin' voice mumble out somethin' like, "I'll send 'em home, I will!" An' a coupl'a yelps an' shrieks an' screams sounded from down below an' I found myself wantin' t'see just what was goin' on agin.

One voice stood out among the ruckus. Sounded like Scout's - Mr. Finch's girl - it did. She was yellin' fer Jem t'be let go'r somethin'. Mr. Finch's voice was calm agin when he tried t'get her to stop, but the other, hazy, hard to hear voices were mad agin.

"You got fifteen seconds to get 'em outta here!" One cried out with mighty force an' it got me shakin' in my boots, it did, if ya know whatta mean.

Somehow, deep in my bones, I knew a scuffl'a some sort was comin' on, an' it got me right nervous agin. I neva' liked that kinda stuff, fightin'.

' _Whatta 'bout the chillin? What'll happenin' t'em?'_ I could'na help but worry myself with th' thought.

Those thoughts left me when I heard Scout agin, this time talkin' to… Mr. Cunn'hm? Ain't they s'posed t'be a nice folk?

When I heard her say Mr. Cunn'hm's name, everythin' down bellow got fuzzy agin. All hush-hush whisper like, an' I could'na hear a blasted thing they were sayin'! I was tempted to lean forward and press myself 'gainst those cold bars when Mr. Finch's warnin' rang through my head. ' _Stay put, Tom. You need to stay put!'_

I dunno what was right'r wrong in this siteration, but I 'cided that followin' Mr. Finch's advice was best, an' ya can bet that's what I did. I stayed put the rest of the night, hearin' the 'casional word'r two, but nothin' real important soundin'. Though… there was when the Cunn'hm said all strong an' clear like as ohp'sed t'fore when he sounded kinda dark, "I'll tell him you said hey, little lady," an' before I knew it, they'd cleared out. At least, I thought so.

Sof'ly, I coughed outta my cell, hopin' Mr. Finch would hear me. "Mr. Finch? They gone?"

Ya've no idea how happy I was when I heard him reply, "They've gone… They won't bother you anymore." Then he told me t'get some sleep… I knew I needed it, I did, but I didn'a want it, not after all that.

"You're damn tootin' they won't. Had you covered all the time, Atticus."

That one voice surprised me, an' I whispered out, "M...Mr. Unda'wood?" They didn'a hear me, but I heard 'em.

I smiled. Mr. Unda'wood was helpin' me… guess if even a nigger-hater like him's willin' t'help I really can sleep safely, huh?

* * *

_Lookin' back on it, even with the trial over my head, I neva' had a betta' sleep all my life, I should think._

_One more thing… Thank'ya, Atticus. Ya did what ya could. Thank'ya._


End file.
